


A Grand Fall

by notsafefortheworld



Series: Undertale: A Grand Fall [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Ruins, Frisk is gone, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, I mean it's your life, I'll shut up now., I'm Sorry, Neutral Run, OC, OC MC but not a Mary Sue I promise, Um., bye kid, do what you want, don't kill anybody, down the rabbit hole Alice, have a nice life, like seriously they get the shit scared out of them frequently, or maybe do just don't kill anybody nice, soul colors, they are in no way a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:57:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafefortheworld/pseuds/notsafefortheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk came. They saw. They conquered. As in, they left without killing-or freeing-anyone.<br/>And the human SOULs disappeared, of course. Not that the king knows where they went. So, naturally.... being humans..... Someone else falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which I Miraculously Don't Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ruins sure are...abandoned, aren't they?

Falling into the Underground had been interesting, to say the least. Not dying was fortunate. Really, surviving that high a fall is nothing short of miraculous. Considering how many people _have_...Humans aren't that sturdy. One must wonder if there's some sort of magic overlaid on that particular area, to prevent the fall from being fatal. It begs the question, though, of why anyone would go up there.  
People don't come back, after all.  
Which mostly leaves the foolish and suicidal. Or both. Or....the people who are curious. Who maybe wouldn't mind dying, if it meant a chance to learn something new, something extraordinary. Or...maybe....the people with nowhere else to go.  
There's so little of true interest left in modern life-all of our problems are conveniently taken care of with technology. 'There's an app for that!' First world problems. There's still cancer to cure, among various other Nobel Peace prizes, but... I'm not a scientist or a humanitarian. And I wanted to learn about monsters.  
So I did. Or tried to, at least.  
There's a lot of information about them. Most of it is exaggerated or obviously slanderous. Or, you know. Kid stuff.  
They've been reduced to third-rate villains in children's stories.  
Or the information is so vague, or old-they have been trapped for a very, very long time-that it's nearly useless due to obfuscation.   
....Mind you. I didn't mean to fall down. But, I did, regardless. (I may have had help. I may have imagined the sensation of a strong pair of hands shoving me over the edge.) But...maybe we should get to the actual story, and I'll...shut up for about two seconds, because I'm the narrator.  
  
  
_______________________________________________  
  
  
I'm falling. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit-  
.  
..  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
  
[ _poof_.]  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

That was.....pleasantly anticlimactic. Glad I'm not dead.  
Really, really glad.   
"Thank you, flowers," I murmur. They don't really look  _cushiony_  enough to have kept me from dying after a....well. I'm not sure how high that is, but it seems like a fair distance. I shouldn't have survived that with just these little...buttercups?-shielding me from packed earth or hard rock. 'M not gonna be picky about what keeps me from dyin, but.  
Well. I'm screwed anyway, most likely. All of my supplies are up above. I have my haversack (because they're way better than backpacks), which has mostly incongruous little items I like to keep on me-and maybe a water bottle and granola bar, if I'm lucky.

I'm probably not, in this instance. I have my hoodie, too, which is nice. It's something of a security blanket. Dunno what I'd do without this thing, which probably means it's going to get trashed soon.   
No time like the present. Time to start walking, before I get a boulder dropped on me, or part of the mountain caves in, or something similarly ridiculous but plausible. I adjust my bag and start moving. This is pretty clearly an actual room-it feels pretty small in diameter, considering that there isn't a ceiling-and there's enough light from above to see where the exit is.

The next room has another spot of light-much smaller, and I can't even see the walls. There's grass in the middle...but nothing else. I step around it carefully, feeling vaguely-if strongly-apprehensive. Glance back a few times. Still nothing.   
There's an actual doorway ahead, and I hesitate. Obviously, somebody made this place-there aren't stalagmites and stalactites anywhere, and those should be in a cave at least in some places, right? The walls in the other room are unnaturally smooth. I can't see the walls here, but the floor (or, again, what's illuminated of it) is flat, besides the odd little mound with grass. The feeling that this place was made by someone...It was a little more... _ignorable_ back there. Here, I might actually run into someone. Which...could either be a good thing, or a bad thing. Because according to the stories, monsters are horrible creatures who basically want nothing more than to absorb human souls so they get really, really strong. On the other hand, the winners write the history books.

And we all know who won the war. Also....there's nowhere but forward, really, unless I want to rot in the dark. And I most certainly don't. I run my fingers over the archway. It's....very pink.   
"Who builds in pink?" I mutter to myself. It's not even flamboyant teenage girl hot pink; it's a dusty, rosy kind of color. There was an arch before, looking back, but I didn't notice it in the dark and also the making sure I was tense just in case something jumped out and tried to kill me. Ahead, the color scheme is continued, and I make a face. Not my favorite color, but eh. Eventually, whoever designed the place will have gotten bored or tired of it, I'm sure. Hopefully. I examine the place further.

There's actual brick in here, which sort of...just seems odd, underground. And two sets of stairs, which I think is maybe a bit excessive. There's...something shiny? Hopefully it's not dangerous. But.

Seeing it, I feel....contented. The vines on the wall are beautiful. And someone cared enough to build this place. Maybe whoever built it is nice, and stuck around. Or their descendants. This place feels pretty old. But...maybe whoever I meet will be friendly. I blink away the odd sentiment and move on.  
There's a plaque with writing above the door, but it's too old and worn down for me to read it. There are a two rows of comically large buttons on the floor, and a yellow lever on the wall by a door, but it looks like I don't have to worry about messing with either of them; the door is open, and I don't know what else they'd do. Close it back up again? The plaque by said door says something weird and philosophical. Whatever. The next room just says 'stay on the path', so I do. It seems like this one's already been solved, as well. Whoever maintains these should probably reset them. Is this...some kind of tour place? Do people come here and solve the puzzles for fun? Oh, this room has a dummy. I stare at it for a minute, and then ignore it. Next. I read the sign. Blueprint...? Kay. I'll keep that in mind. I go back and look, then proceed. Huh. Spikes. That's new. They look really dull, though. I poke at one gently, just to see. Yeah. I could probably just walk on these, but I don't want to wear out my shoes. I have a nagging feeling I won't be going to the store anytime soon. But there has to be some sort of automatic thing, right?  
Yup. This is a bit boring. All you have to do is shift in the right direction and the next tile on the path clicks down. It's a baby puzzle. I sigh. This is not nearly as exciting as I'd imagined falling underground would be, when I daydreamed about it as a kid. Peculiarity not-withstanding. 

The next room is actually a super long hallway. Are there gonna be swinging blades, or something? No, nothing on the walls or ceiling-including holes for them to come out of- besides a decent amount of ivy.  
Hmph. 'Dangerous' my rear. There's a pillar at the end, but there's nothing behind it, so I ignore it.  
Up, or down? Eh, up. 'What goes up must come down.'  
_Geez, I'm bored._  A peaceful little room, with water off to either side of a small pillar...with an empty bowl sitting on it. Great. Very helpful, you guys. Do your dishes. It isn't Halloween anymore. The water looks inviting and cool. Sighing, I take off my shoes and stick em in my bag. Might as well put my feet in. I dangle them in the water for a while, just relaxing. It's a very calm sort of room.  
So far, nothing's tried to kill me, and nobody's tried to say hi, so....might as well relax, yeah? A little bit, anyway.

After a while, I exhale and get up. I do'nt bother taking my shoes back on; they would just chafe, and it'll be nice to go barefoot. I go back out.

There's another yellow light in the leaves, and I prance around it like a fool for a little while, then collapse laughing.  I feel much more entertained, if extremely silly, at least at the moment. And also determined to find whoever runs this joint and tell them their hosting skills are lacking. With a snort at the thought, I brush myself off and wander back onto the path and into the next room, which has a rock and another plaque. I raise my eyebrows at the plaque, but edge the rock along with my toes anyway. I think I hear it huff as spikes go up at the end of the room, but that doesn't make any sense. I remove the rock from the button, shaking my head. The pool of water is pretty obviously artificially made. This has to be a tourist trap;; that's not gonna keep anybody from crossing. I could jump it easy.

In the next room, I don't notice the cracks on the ground until the sickening sensation of the ground going out from under me is firmly in place. I pinwheel, trying to get back onto solid ground, but fall-and. Don't get hurt. At all. Is it me, or did that fall feel  _slow?_ I read the plaque. Okay. Seems like I'll actually have to remember this one. Trying to 'not step on the leaves' ends with me falling again, so I huff and step on them. Well, where I'm not supposed to step, anyway. There aren't actually leaves on the above part of the....puzzle. Surprisingly, the ground holds out, despite the fact that it looks just as decrepit as in the places it gave way. I hop to the next branch of 'leaves', huffing. Rude misleading clue. Rude _lying_ clue. I reach the end of the room, muttering to myself.  
I'm gettin real tired of these puzzles. They are neither fun nor hard.  I hop over the spikes, not in the mood. Another sparkly, but I'm still not in the mood. A big mousehole in the wall, and some real old cheese. A random-seeming patch of leaves, and then some cobweb with a sign that says there's a bakesale....made for, by, and  _of_ , spiders, and while the last doesn't seem appealing in the least, I look into the cobwebs. Empty. Shrugging, I turn around. The next few rooms are deactivated, too, but seem unnecessarily large. I walk through them, increasingly bored and confused. Up, or right?.....Right. Why not. Probably won't be anything interesting in  _either_ direction. Geez, I'm being ungrateful. I  _could_  have died falling. Or in some trap. Or from any number of things. And I've only been here for like half an hour. Lighten up, buttercup. Whoever runs this place is probably on vacation or something. 'Or something' seeming more likely.   
The hairs go up on the back of my neck as I enter the next room. There's a whole  _city,_ underground, looking shadowed and old and  _fascinating._  There's a bridge, too, and it looks sturdy enough to cross without considerable concern. This, at least,  _promises_  to be interesting.


	2. In Which Maybe We Aren't Quite So Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne's mother is in this.

Eyes wide, I take in the city. It must be night here, I guess, because it was about dusk outside, and I don't see anyone, but the place doesn't feel abandoned. It feels _alive_ , like one of the buildings might decide to suddenly get up and walk away. But I don't see anybody, which feels weird. It feels like there should be people out. I hear a hiss, and duck with a yelp. Something whizzes-far over my head, and I whip around to face where it came from.

"Consider that a warning shot," someone says-I'm too busy trying not to have a heart attack to really examine them- and everything _blacks out_ for a second, before blinking back, and there's...a heart?! hovering in front of my chest-a cartoonized, darkish green heart, but I really don't have time to ponder that, because something's hissing towards me again. Everything besides the heart is black and white, I notice-which is super weird-and I scramble to the side as another projectile launches towards me. The missiles stop. I pause and blink, staring at my opponent. They clear their throat, looking slightly perplexed and maybe a bit uncomfortable.  
"Aren't you going to fight back?" I wrinkle my forehead. _How_  and _why_  would I do that? I'm sure this can be resolved peacefully. I shake my head, and they shrug.  
"Your loss." They ready another missile, and I dodge it a little more easily than the others.   
"So, uh, why aren't you attacking me?" They ask. I dodge another missile, and they end their 'turn', clearly wanting an answer. I scratch my head.  
"I....don't see the point? I don't really know why you attacked me." Maybe I startled them somehow? No, that seems unlikely. They hesitate, obviously mulling it over.   
"Spare me, then." They say.  
"I..uh..okay?" They wait.  
"I spare you?" The world blinks back into focus, and I about fall over at the weird sensation.  _That's_ not pleasant. Actually, I do fall over, but that's partially because I tripped over myself. I look up to see a hand extended. With a bit of reluctance, I take it, and pull myself up. Tilting my head, I watch them. They just blink at me.  
"So....you're a human." I blink back and look down, pretending to be mildly surprised.  
"Oh, am I? I wasn't paying attention to what I put on this morning." They snort, and the corner of their....mouth?...lifts.   
"I'm Teya. You?" They seem to consider, and shake my hand.  
"Neho. My friends call me Chillby."   
"I see why. Your hands are _freezing._ " The corner lifts further.  
"Was that a pun?"  
"No, but it _cold_ be."  
"That was terrible."   
"You're smiling." They make a noise. I laugh, and then straighten out, feeling better.  
"So, um. Not to be, like, rude or anything, but why'd you start chucking stuff at me? And what the hell was with everything going monochromatic?" They consider for a moment.  
"This may not be the best place for this conversation."  
"The middle of the street seldom is." They-he?-snort, and incline their head for me to follow.  
Might as well. Just won't go into any creepy basements.  
This place is amazing. The architecture is almost Gothic in places; in others, it looks like someone started building part of a castle and then decided otherwise, so there are actual _towers_  interspersed among other buildings. There's what might be a cathedral towering over a good deal of it. And then there are more normal buildings, but only farther in. Whoever built this place had about the same attention span as - well - me, it seems like. My jaw creaks with a yawn. _Dammit._  Not here. I feel my footsteps slow down, and force myself to call out.  
"Are we, um, almost there?" They look back.

 

* * *

 

The human is dragging their feet. You wonder briefly if this means they don't want to come with you, before noticing their eyelids are half-closed. You almost snort at the absurdity, but restrain yourself. They let out another, jaw-cracking yawn, and you reconsider your plan to question them. They're not going to be conscious enough for a chat by the time you get to Lena and Barkley's. You do snort when they stumble, and then blink up at you as though it was your fault. Then you frown, because that wasn't very nice. Obviously, something's wrong. People don't just start falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. Speaking of.  
"Let's get you somewhere to sleep." They've stopped walking at this point, jerking as they try not to nod off. With a slightly exasperated, slightly worried sigh, you pick them up. They're surprisingly substantial, which you suppose is because they aren't made of magic, but they're not heavy. Odd how that works. Their head falls on you shoulder as they lose consciousness.

You wonder what that's about. Is it normal for humans to suddenly keel over? Is this something you should be worried about? You check, but their SOUL seems perfectly healthy-a bit scratched up from when you were attacking them (they must have scraped a knee, or something. None of the hits landed.)-but not flickering or shaking or cracking, and it's a relatively healthy hue. You shrug it off. You'll ask when they wake up. You step into the inn, a human in your arms, and get a few odd looks. The monster behind the desk is a Moldsmall with their first job.   
"Two beds." They gurgle at you, and hand you a key. You thank them, and surreptitiously wipe the slime off on your handkerchief. You put the human down on one of the beds, not bothering to tuck them in. They'll be comfortable enough. It's a bit warm in here for your tastes, and you're not sure what standard of temperature humans go by.  
You take off your shoes, and lie down on your bed. You might as well get some rest; watching people sleep is rude, and at the moment, there isn't much else to do without leaving them alone. Which seems like it would be a bad idea. You'll ask your questions in the morning, presuming they don't wake up earlier.

* * *

  
I sit up with a groan and rub at my eyes, which are crusty. Gross. It catches up to me a moment later that I don't know where I am, and they fly open.

It looks like a motel room. Kind of. Every motel I've ever been to has had a TV, a bathroom, and all that crap. This one just has two beds and a window with soft-looking curtains. Light is coming in-I'll have to ask where their daylight comes from; we are underground, after all-so it's most likely as close to morning as it gets down here. My bag. I look around the room, and my heart-rate settles when I notice it by my bed, on the floor. I pick it up and dig through it. Nothing missing, not even my pocket knife. I love this thing. [I've always had a slightly inexplicable appreciation for sharp things.] I rub at my eyes again, and take my hoodie off; it's a bit warm in here. Underneath, I'm wearing one of my favorite striped shirts. It's black and grey and _comfortable_ , which is my main criterion. I pull it back down and straighten it out. I feel like I'm forgetting something. Where's Neho? I search my memory, but the last thing I remember doing is walking with them, and then...oh. I fell asleep on them. That's embarrassing. I'll have to apologize for that.  
I stand up slowly, giving my legs the chance to protest instead of flat-out dumping me on the ground, but they hold up fine. Theoretically, I should probably wait here, but that seems lazy. Plus, as long as I don't go too far and know the way back, it shouldn't be an issue. Maybe there's a front desk, and the person there knows where Neho is? I'unno. Nothing to do here, though, and eight hours of forced sort-of meditation are quite enough, thank-you-very-much. I look around for a key-nope. And I have all my stuff, so I guess I'm good to go.

The door opens with a soft click, and I peek out. No need to go barging into someone just because I want to explore. The hall's empty, though, so I close the door behind me quietly.    _I'm_  awake during the day, but it might be really early, or somebody else here could be nocturnal. It's a whole other culture, isn't it? I don't really know much about monsters. Which is unfortunate, because I accidentally almost step on one. Apologizing profusely, I jump backwards as the world does it's little thing. Great. _This_  again. Apparently, I almost stepped on really tiny frog. I dub thee Froggit. I chuckle at myself in the comfort of my own head, and move aside to avoid the tiny flies-gnats?-the little critter is assaulting me with. Somehow. How's it get them to do what it wants? They stop, and I crouch down to their level.  
"Hey there, bud. I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to almost step on you; I'll be more careful next time." They don't seem to understand a word I'm saying, but seem appeased nonetheless. They attack again, but their heart isn't in it. I spare them, and spend the next few minutes calling them adorable and generally crooning at their smolness. So tiny. Such a tiny frog. I shake my head to clear it, and watch more carefully where I step. To my awareness, I don't step on anything sentient (maybe at the moment I'm being attacked by sentient bacteria-sized monsters; who knows) and make my way to the end of the hall, where there are some stairs. Thudding down them cheerfully fills me with amusement, and I almost don't notice the yellow sparkly as I pass by it. Wonder what those do, anyway. Mood enhancers? They always show up when I'm cheerful, but I'm not sure if it's _because of_  them, or if they show up because of it. Or they're just innocent, levitating lights, and I'm being foolish. Yeah. That's it. Totally normal.

I snort and open the door-so many doors. Is it to keep out noise?-into what must be a lobby. A few monsters turn, go back to what they were doing, and then turn around again. I feel slightly uneasy. I make my way cautiously to the desk, keeping an eye out for anyone who wants to....have words with me. No one does, apparently, although they continue to stare, some trying harder than others to be inconspicuous. I clear my throat at the desk, face warm.   
"Um, hi. I'm sorry, I'm looking for Neho?" The buglike monster behind the counter just blinks at me, looking somewhat hostile.  
"Uh...Chilby?" They blink again, this time in recognition. They lean forward on the counter-they're very short, so it's pretty much supporting their whole weight-and speak with a raspy, growly voice.  
"What's it to you?" I blink, and almost take a step back, before my irritation sets in. I lean on the counter, nose to nose with them, amused.  
"You know, this isn't very good customer service." I tell them. They grunt.  
"We don't count _humans_ as customers." I blink in surprise, and stand back up.  
"Wow. Rude. Geez, racist much?" I turn away, shaking my head. I clear my throat. Everyone in the room is trying to look like they aren't watching, so I don't feel too terribly bad about addressing them.  
"Does anybody know where Chilby is? We were in the middle of a talk, and I'd like to apologize for inconveniencing them." Silence. A sad-looking bug-ghost-monster approaches timidly. I lean down and wait, trying to give off a comforting air. It looks like if I said a single word they'd run off crying.  
"Um...Chil-Chilby is in the pool room," they tell me. I smile at them softly and thank them. They scramble off, and I frown. Poor thing. Social anxiety is not fun. I sigh, and run my hand through my hair. I'm not going to ask the room at large where that _is_ , and I think if I went over again, the guy at the desk would bite my nose. I casually wander down the only other hallway in the joint. Now, did they mean  _pool_  room, or _pool_  room? I hear chatter and laughter, so I follow the sound. The _clack_  of billiards balls together seems to indicate the latter. I don't smell chlorine, anyway.  
I open the door, smiling at the saloon-style of it. I almost put my hands on my hips, like in a movie, but refrain. No need to be pompous, which is what it would look like. I move to a wall by the door, out of the way, and scan the room. Neho is sitting at the bar, drinking something and laughing with the bartender, who I don't even.... They look kind of like a very short giraffe, but on two legs. And instead of the usual giraffe pattern, they have spots, and are wearing a hat with holes cut in the top for their...horns. And also their ears. They're wearing a rainbow tie-dye shirt, which doesn't really go with the saloon theme, but doesn't really _clash_ , either. They rap their knuckles on the bar, and point at me. I puff my cheeks out. Rude. Chilby turns around, laughing at something they said, then looks surprised, beckoning me over. Their eyes widen as I approach, looking shocked. Chilby crooks a finger. I lean down obediently, curious, and they speak into my ear.  
"How many did you dust?" They hiss. I freeze, heart thumping, and jump back without thinking. Shithelooksmadwhydoeshelookmad-he stands leisurely, and grabs my shoulder in a friendly-looking manner. I flinch at the cold that immediately bites into my bones, but don't struggle. The cold recedes a bit, but not much. He says something to the bartender I don't hear, and steers me out of the room firmly. I'm shivering by the time he stops in the hallway. He leans down, face to face, still keeping a death grip on my shoulder.  
" _How many?_ " I don't-what does he-he pushes me against the wall, looking pissed, and a hand comes to rest leisurely on my throat. I choke, trying to duck out of his grasp, but he holds me in place by my shoulder and neck, and I struggle desperately as the cold makes its home in my bones.  
"S-stop. You-'re hurting me," I say. He smiles, and it's _vicious,_  and I can't breathe. I don't think I'm going to survive this. I would ask him why he's doing this, but I can't speak, can't breathe through the ice crystallizing in my throat. The only thing I can see before everything goes black is him smiling.  
  
The world blinks, and I'm back on the stairs, heaving and gasping. I fall down the rest of them, trying to catch my breathe. What the _fuck._  I sit there, shaking, for at least ten minutes. It feels like an hour before my heart stops hammering in my chest. _What the actual FUCK._  I clutch at my neck, remembering the feeling of cold sinking into it, and flinch. I start hyperventilating. It's a while before the shakes stop, before my breathing is back under control, until the last dregs of panic work their way out of my skull, and I slump against the wall, staring blankly into space. I don't........what the hell happened? There's no way-that actually _happened._  I didn't just _imagine_  it, my imagination is good, but there's no way-and it _hurt._ It _hurt_. I _died._  Oh my god, I died. I actually fucking died, and I don't know why, and somehow I'm here and I need to stop before I have another panic attack. I close my eyes again, breathing erratic. Okay. Investigate. Okay. Okay. It's going to be okay. Just focus on what you can control.  
I open the door into the lobby quietly, on auto-pilot, ignoring the room at large-they pretend to ignore me back-and walk down the hall. I hesitate just outside the door. Why did he...I sneak a glance in, heart racing, and he's not looking. Bracing myself, I push the door open and walk over. I slide onto one of the stools, feeling a bit shaky.   
"H-hey..." I can't help the stutter. Fuck it. Fuck it all. I don't understand this. He looks down at me, expression blank. When did I start thinking of Chillby as a he? He reaches toward me, and I flinch backwards, falling off my stool. It makes a loud clatter, and I feel rather than see the eyes turning towards us. My arm is up, above my face, and I don't know when that happened, but oh look, it's shaking. He looks positively alarmed, and reaches out again. I scramble back-I should have just left-he's going to kill me again-and hit something. I gasp sharply, and feel someone wrap their arms around me.  
"Sh, sh, honeybuns, nobody's gonna hurt you, 'specially not Chilbz," whoever it is says. I grasp at their arms, holding onto them like a life preserver.   
"Easy, now," they say, still trying to calm me down. Feeling returns to my face, and I realize I'm crying.  _Fuckingofallthedayscryinginfrontofstrangers_. I wipe at my face roughly, and the arms are removed. and they rub my back instead. He's is at least ten feet away, looking somewhat confused, with a hint of curiosity. Does he know he killed me? I stand up, not sure what to do with myself, but not wanting to sit on the floor looking like a lunatic. Mentally sound people don't have fucking anxiety attacks when people reach out to-whatever he was going to do. Probably grab me again, and that's not a good thought, let's put that away for now, okay? Okay. Breathe. The soft voice is back.  
"Here, honey." They hand me some napkins. I scrub at my face, and blow my nose. People are politely averting their eyes.  
"Thanks," I mumble weakly.  
The tissues disappear as soon as I finish with them. I blink, but that's really not something I care about right now.  
"Oh, darling. What set you off like that?" They ask, and I get a proper look at them. Some tough-looking woman, in a torn shirt and pants, but she seems kind of...maternal? Despite that? Odd combination.

And... she looks like a fish-lady. There are wrinkles around her eyes, like she's spent years laughing, or looking into the sun. I just shake my head mutely, swallowing.  
"It-it's nothing. I'm sorry. It's nothing. I'm sorry I..inconvenienced you," I tell her. I give her a watery smile. She looks unconvinced, but lets it pass.   
"I....I have to go," I mutter, and she looks like she's about to protest, but I just thank her again and make my way to the door. Great. I've been here less than a week and I'm already being awkward.  
I'm halfway down the hall when I hear him calling after me, and panic. I fly out the door into the lobby, then onto the sidewalk. There are people everywhere, and most of them aren't paying me any mind, at least not because I'm human. I think.  
"Teya!" I blanch and start running again. I turn into an alley-oh god I thought it was another street oh no-and turn back around, almost running into him. My eyes widen, and dart around, looking for an escape. He steps forward, and I trip backwards with a cry, arm coming up, shaking again.  
"Pl-plea-se do-n't hu-rt me," I gasp out pathetically. _[Have some mercy, human.]_ I wait for oblivion, for the biting cold, and my eyes open of their own accord when neither appears. He's staring down at me, looking perplexed, and I flinch again when I see him, remembering the smile he wore as he froze my windpipe.   
"Ge-et it o-ver wi-ith," I order. He blinks, and slowly sits down in front of me. He speaks slowly, calmly, as if to a frightened animal.  
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not sure where you got that idea; we got that nonsense out of the way yesterday, didn't we?" I hiccup, looking at him without seeing anything. Shit, shit, shit. I can't speak for a long moment.  
"B-but, you..." He waits, looking as though he has an unlimited store of time. He prods gently.  
"What, Teya?" I try again.  
"Y-ou..kille-d me."  He goes rigid, and I wince back, expecting a blow. (I've always been too honest for my own good.)  
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming?" He asks quietly, without being derisive.  
"N-no! It _hurt!_  Dreams don't hurt! Y-you..." I look away. He waits. I can't tell what he's thinking. I pull back against the wall. He makes a show of settling back, onto the ground. _I'm listening_ and  _I'm not a threat_ combined.  
"You...I..I woke up, and I didn't know where I was, so..I went down, an' somebody told me you were in the pool room, so I tried to find that, an then I did, an the bartender pointed me out to you, an' I came over....an then you asked me somethin weird, about...'how many I dusted'?... an then you got mad," I shiver, and he reaches out before stopping himself,  
"Real mad. N then...an then you dragged me out inta the hall, an..an' your-your hand was cold. 'N you asked again, but I don't-I don't know-" I close my eyes. I thought I got rid of that accent ages ago. Apparently not. I force my eyes back open.  
"You...pushed me up against the wall, 'n you smiled at me," I shiver,  
"'n you held me there, an you froze my...my throat." I grasp at it without realizing, trying to reassure myself that it's not achingly numb. I shudder against the wall, body trying to heat itself up even though I know I'm not cold. He doesn't say anything. I close my eyes with a shaky exhalation, still holding my neck. I realize I've been clawing at it when I feel wet under my fingernails, and I force my fingers to straighten out.  
"It wa'n't a nice smile." I keep my eyes screwed shut, afraid I'll see it again, and not just flashing behind my eyelids.  
"It **hurt**. It hurt like _fuck_. Don't you  dare tell me I was dreaming, I ain't ever had a dream hurt, and I had real bad ones," I tell him defiantly. He seems at a loss for anything to say. I shake my head and clear my throat, trying to fix my speech.  
"I 'woke up' on the stairs, sota speak. I mean, I was awake through it all, but everything went really..dark, y'know. I hope I didn't wake anybody up....I fell down some of them, an that was prolly pretty loud..." I swallow, not looking at him.   
"It _wasn't_  a dream, an I'm not crazy, an I'm not makin this up." So much for my painfully constructed speech patterns. He exhales, looking a bit shaky himself, and I allow myself to look at him.  
"Why...why is there dust on your shirt?" He asks. I blink. That seems...like about the last thing that would be relevant, and if it's an attempt to change the subject, the weather would've been less lame. I look down.   
"Talcum powder. Old fashioned deodorant. I've always been a sucker for old--old-timey shit." He looks at me, seeming almost defeated. His posture slumps somewhat, and I wait.

  
"I'm..going to call my boss." I don't...? He sees my look.  
"This is really above my pay grade. And obviously, I'm not logical enough to handle this sort of thing, because I _killed you,_ and I didn't even give you a chance to talk, and the sad thing is, _it doesn't really surprise me._ So I'm gonna call my boss. He can come here, and I can....I can leave you alone. He'll know what to do." The last parts are almost mumbled. He pulls what's presumably a phone out of his pocket. I blink at him, starting to feel worried for his mental well-being. I look down at my shirt. There _is_ some dust on it, but I hadn't bothered to brush it off, because one, getting the powder out is a bit of a pain, and two, I figured, _hey,_  I'm not even going to be near other people for, like, a week. Who cares if I have a bit of nice-smelling clean stuff on me? Certainly not the squirrels. And then I fell down a hole, and I was wearing my hoodie anyway, and it just didn't matter. I'm still not sure why it does. Obviously, dust is evidence of some horrible crime. I wonder if people clean religiously around here, or if it's a bit more complicated than that. I listen to him as the call connects.  
"Yeah...hi, boss. I....fucked up. I really need help." [medical? where?]  
"No, I'm...okay. It's not...that kind of a fuck-up. Well, it kind of is, but it's...it's complicated, and another human fell down, and-" he's hunched in one himself, tall frame made small by self-positioning. [are you with them?....how dangerous are they?..i'll use a shortcut. should i bring Undyne?...doesn't sound like they're the only one. {who needs help.}]   
"Yeah, they're here. No, they're...actually...really friendly. Yeah, that would probably help. No, I don't think she needs to come; they're  _really_ friendly. And...she'd probably punch them or something, and they've...uh..they've had a pretty rough day. I know." I wait, arms folded. He lets out a relieved sigh, slumping against a wall. He closes his eyes, deflated. [breathe. location?]  
"Thanks, boss. Yeah, we're...you know the inn? Two lefts, in the alley." He blinks.  
"Okay." Then, almost whispered,  
"Thanks, boss." [heh. not gonna leave you to your own devices, chilbz.] I tilt my head, watching. He seems like a different person. I want to comfort him, but I'm really not, uh...comfortable enough to do that for this particular person at the moment, so I don't. I have a pretty good reason, I think...

He closes the phone quietly. After a moment, he turns back around, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.  
"So, yeah. My boss'll be here in...probably a literal minute." I don't say anything, but I wonder how close they must be to get here that fast. Why they're that close. We wait silently, me playing with the strap of my bag, him standing there, looking awkward. Someone appears at the end of the alley, and then I flinch as something appears directly in front of me. I stumble back a step.  
"woah, easy there, kid." I blink, regaining my balance. I narrowly stop myself from making a snappy retort, and it probably shows. I don't...I feel bad, but I don't care. I've been attacked and killed and just, I don't....I'm tired of getting screwed around with. My patience is running thin. A hand reaches out to me.  
"don't you know how to greet a new pal, human?" I shake their hand cautiously, and a whoopee cushion deflates noisily. My eyebrows come together. They laugh, coming into focus. I hadn't even realized I couldn't really...see them before, in detail. How did they do that?  
"never gets old. I'm Sans, Sans the skeleton." I tilt my head in amusement, mouth quirking. I speak before I can stop myself.  
"The latter is self-evident." He-he? Seems like a he.-raises an eyebrow....ridge at that. His mouth does too, though only for a second. Then he turns to face Neho.  
"so, why'd you call, buddy? seems like everything is fine, besides there being a human here. I can fix that pretty easily, though." He raises a hand, and a tiny bone twirls on one finger, glowing light blue. Neho won't meet his eyes, hunching further on himself and scuffing his foot.  
"No, that's...not the problem." I can hear the expectancy for him to continue. I wait. I'm not really sure why he called his boss, of all people, after all. Because he killed me? Because he thinks I'm nuts? Neither of those usually fall within workplace jurisdiction. When Neho doesn't say anything further, Sans turns around to face me. He scans me, and his eye sockets widen, one burning the same yellow as the bone was, the other's pupil disappearing entirely. I'm not sure why, but it feels distinctly threatening. I'm not sure how to react. I don't want to fight.  
"N-no!" Chilby rushes forward, putting a hand on Sans' arm. His eye dims, and when he blinks, the other pupil reappears. He looks back.  
"That's not...they didn't hurt anyone. It's..a human thing. They said," he finishes lamely. The eye glows again, this time blue, and I feel like I'm being grabbed and lifted. I yelp, struggling as my feet leave the ground. I watch as the hand that's glowing moves, and wince in apprehension of-something. The skeleton looks at me assessingly, and I watch the heart appear, but nothing else seems to happen. No monochrome. Curious despite myself, I reach out for it. My hand goes right through it, and I retract it, confused. I focus on the strange green object, and this time, I feel it. It feels like...me. Is this....what is this? I glance back down, confused, letting go of the heart. Sans brings me closer, and I try to backpedal through the air, _really_ not in the mood for personal proximity. Blue reaches out, and I grab my heart and pull it away, feeling cornered.  
"Stop that," I snap. Eyebrows raised, permanent smile small and a bit surprised. Curious. I flush, and go into scolding mode.  
"That's rude. I'm not even sure _how_ , but that's rude. Now _put me down,_  because I am _not in the mood_  for this and you are _testing_ my  _patience_." ....I've spent too many years watching children. (For some reason he seems to smile for a moment like I made I joke.)

His head tilts, and he snaps his fingers. I drift close to the ground, and fall a few inches. I glare at him.  
"Thank you. Now explain why you felt the need to be a total _ass_ before I even told you my _name._ " He turns to Neho, smile and eyes wide. Neho shakes his head, looking startled. I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and close my eyes, feeling exasperated. Apparently, neither of these two are any use unless you tell them directly _what_ is going to happen. [It occurs to me later that this is an extremely uncharitable thought, but at the moment, I'm too pissed off to care. I don't blame myself later, either.] Sans turns back to me and shrugs, still smiling. I exhale slowly, counting to three. _So much_ progress, and this joker has reduced it to rubble in less than three minutes. I finish breathing out, and open my eyes. The smile seems more relaxed now. Not a total asshole, then. I take another deep breath, and rub at my eyes. I don't feel tired yet, but I'm sure I will soon. Better get this out of the way quick, 'n find somewhere to crash. Somewhere _safe_ to crash. I turn my thoughts back to the conversation. Clearly, I'm going to have to be the one to start.  
"So. I'm not sure why he called you." That's all I've got. Your turn. Sans narrows his eyes, looking at me. I shrug helplessly. We both turn to Neho.  
"Uh....anomolies, boss. They said that I...killed them." And just like that, the spark of color is back in Sans' eye, although it's not as flashy as before. I get the feeling that it's more preemptive than overtly aggressive. 'Keep your guard up', like. His eyes don't leave mine, and I barely refrain from shivering under his stare. I'm not sure what about it is unnerving, exactly. Probably at least partially the way he looks like he's seen a lot of things that are....more than mildly unpleasant.  
"why?" Is all he says. Neho flushes, looking down.  
"I....didn't ask questions, apparently. Just....kind of assumed." I nod slightly, breaking eye contact. Ohhhh great. Starting to kick in, now. I lean against the wall, trying to conserve energy. Sans looks between the two of us. Silence prevails.   
"Welp. I could use a nap. How about we head back to my place and get some coffee?" He offers to no one in particular. I blink, wondering where 'his place' is-seems like it isn't far, then-and he winks. Chilby shrugs. I feel bad for the guy. I kind of wish he'd just apologize so I can tell him it's okay. Obviously he thought I did something really terrible, even if he was fucking stupid about how he reacted. Chilby puts a hand on Sans' shoulder lightly, still scrutinizing the ground. Sans turns his smile on me, holding out a hand palm-up.  
"C'mere." I shake my head. Last time I followed that instruction, it ended badly for me. He frowns, not angrily, and sighs, shrugging with his whole upper body, eyes closed.  
"Heh. Kid, I know it can be hard to trust someBONEy you just met, but I assure you, it's nothing to go to PIECES over." I frown. Everyone's frowning. Besides Sans, as is self-evident. I shrug half-heartedly, not making eye contact, and hesitantly reach out to take his hand. As soon as I do, his eye glows again, rather brightly, and I only have time to recoil before there's a zapping sound _,_ and I feel dizzy. My hand is released, and I very narrowly avoid falling on my ass. He raises his arms dramatically.  
"Welcome to Casa-de-la-Sans," he says, half-theatric, half lazy. I raise an eyebrow.  
"'La' is female," I point out. In most of the languages I've studied, anyway. He frowns at me. I frown back, and he smiles. Then he shrugs, grinning. Bloody skeleton.  
"Eh. Sounds better." I roll my eyes. Didn't misgender him, then. He's just butchering the language. I sigh, and roll my shoulders, not dizzy anymore. Crack my neck. That's a bit better. Then I sigh at sight of the two of them standing around.  
"Look. I'm gonna keel over on your carpet if I don't get some coffee." I half-joke. Shit. I always fall into being a bit aggressive when I'm uncertain. Sans blinks, and looks at Chils.   
"hey, why don't you go get some croissants? Take your time. I'm sure Grilbz'll be _fired up_ to see you," he says with a wink. Neho nods, looking uncertain, and goes out the door. Sans walks into the kitchen, clicking on a coffee-maker. I follow him, leaning up against the doorframe.   
"So." I almost flinch. I've gotta work on that. He sounds like someone familiar. Hell if I know who, though. He fills the kettle.  
"What brings you to our humble kingdom?" He asks. Well. That's the first time someone's actually asked, isn't it?  
"I was curious. Didn't mean to fall in....guess the wind was strong, or something." Somehow, that that's not the truth hangs between us, and I get the feeling that he knows....something. Something I don't? I clear my throat, looking away. He sets the pot in the machine, and opens a cabinet with the blue, taking out a box of what's probbly instant coffee. I don't comment, even though I see a stepping stool not three feet away. Guess he doesn't want to have his back to me. Can't blame him.   
"What, exactly, are you curious about?" He asks, and it startles me, though I'm not sure why. Not by it's suddenness, but the question itself. It's the kind of question that makes me wonder if he somehow knows more about me than he should. Or maybe...not _me,_ but someone _like_ me.  I clear my throat again. Furrow my brow.  
"A lot of things." He leans back against the counter, eyeridge raised. I continue, picking up steam with the old topic.  
"It doesn't make sense. The war. And...a lot of other stuff, too. Supposedly monsters are wicked dangerous, but then how the hell did we toss you underground as easy as drowning kittens? The premise of it all doesn't even make _sense._  Great. It's easier for you to absorb our souls than it is for us to do it." I pace.  
"That's like saying, 'jeez, tigers are really dangerous, let's kill all of them', or 'nobody but the government can own guns'. It makes sense on one level, but on the other hand, if we tried to eradicate everything that's dangerous to us, _nothing_ would be left. Including ourselves.  _Especially_ ourselves. And even if a monster _did_ absorb a human soul, other humans _would still have theirs_. It'd just be like fighting another human, and we have _no problem with that!"_ I throw my hands up. I turn to face him.  
"Plus, the only info on monsters is basically, 'they're evil', and 'they'll try to eat you and steal your soul'. Not the most reliable information. Sounds more like religion than actual precaution." I almost feel myself sway, and start pacing again to keep my blood pumping.  
"Coffee almost done?" I ask. He doesn't answer, and I look back to see him watching me, impassive. I slow. What's that look for? Did I do something wrong?  
"We have a couch, you know." He tells me. I blink. How did he....? I'm pretty good at hiding it, until it actually, y'know, knocks me out. Which maybe isn't always a good thing. He shrugs, not making eye contact.  
"i have the same problem." Oh. I blink at him, slowly. Should I....? It's not good to throw caffeine at it. Makes it worse later, really. He nods his head in the direction of the living room.  
"go. It'll take him a while to get back, anyway. Grillby's a real talker, once you get to know 'im." I blink again, nodding slowly, and make my way back out. I already feel the waves crashing down on me. Stumbling, I make it the last few feet to the couch, blinking out of consciousness before I hit it.   
  
\------  
  
Well. The kid's asleep on the couch. Looks like they conked out before they even laid down, which tells you they've been holding off on passing out for a while, and you wince in sympathy. Water's done, but you click it off with a wave of the hand. You teleport upstairs and fall onto your bed with a slight _whoomph_. Poor kid. You've heard enough to have a general outline of what happened, but you'd still like the whole story. You'll let them sleep first, though, 'cause they aren't going to wake up for anything, if their episodes are like yours. You note that they intentionally asked-albeit in a relatively subtle manner-if they were calling you the right pronoun, and puff out a small laugh. It's pretty obvious by the way they hold themselves, that they prefer a gender-neutral pronoun, and are a little defensive about it. Plenty of people like that around-the gender neutral, not the defensive. Although there are plenty of people who have insecurities, gender isn't one of them, for monsters. Must be different for humans.

You close your eyes, taking a cat-nap. Kid should wake up in fifteen minutes, tops.  
Ten minutes later, you hear stirring, and crack open an eye. 


End file.
